


Lovesick

by shushu_yaoi_lj



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Mention of OCD, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rimming, Switching, This Is Actually Quite Soft, and a little bit crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28792272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shushu_yaoi_lj/pseuds/shushu_yaoi_lj
Summary: “Your test results have come back,” Pansy says with a smile, “I’m afraid you have chlamydia, darling.”“I beg your pardon?” Draco says, frowning.“You also have to contact all your past sexual partners to let them know that they need to get tested too.”“Oh fuck,” Draco whimpers, “I can’t sendhiman owl. I have to tell him in person.”Or the one where Draco didn’t know Harry was his boyfriend.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 19
Kudos: 371





	Lovesick

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been rewatching the British series “Lovesick” (which I highly recommend, because it’s absolutely brilliant) and I just had to make some kind of Drarry version. I hope you enjoy it!

“Your test results have come back,” Pansy says with a smile, folding her hands on the desk. She looks at ease, in her private clinic, flicking her dark hair behind her shoulders as she studies him.

“All fine as usual?”

“I’m afraid you have chlamydia.”

Draco stares at her.

“I beg your pardon?” he says, frowning.

“You have tested positive for chlamydia, darling. The sexually transmitted disease?” she replies, tilting her head.

“There must be a mistake, Pansy,” he says, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, “I always use protective spells.”

Her sympathetic smile turns mischievous as she eyes him like a cat playing with a mouse. Draco feels a shiver running down his spine and he’s positive it’s not because of the STD news (although that sucks; he just came for a routine check-up and was expecting the all clear).

“Always?” she chides, “even that time you fucked a Muggle?”

“That was years ago! And I obviously couldn’t get my wand out in front of him. Plus, you know full well that I’m still shit at wandless magic.”

“You could have used a domdom,” she deadpans.

“First of all, they’re called _condoms_ ,” Draco replies, raising an eyebrow at her, “and secondly, we did use one. And it was dreadful, like shagging with a raincoat on, as the Muggles say. I could barely feel my cock. Honestly, Pansy, these Muggles don’t know what they’re missing.”

“Anyway, darling,” Pansy says, her tone so sweet that Draco knows that there’s more bad news coming his way. He was not expecting a shitstorm to hit him today and his best friend loves torturing him way too much. “You need to take a potion to get rid of the chlamydia infection.”

Draco sighs in relief.

“That’s fine,” he says, “I’ll get it from the apothecary on my way home.”

“No need for that; I can give you one right now. I have a stash for my patients,” Pansy declares, her eyes shining with anticipation, “but you also have to contact all your past sexual partners to let them know that they need to get tested too.”

Draco’s mouth drops open and he can tell that Pansy is enjoying his reaction immensely. She’s such a dick, honestly.

“All of them?” he asks, swallowing loudly.

“Nah, only the ones that you stayed friends with,” Draco frowns at her, “of course all of them, you knob! You could have spread the disease all over London.”

“Hey, stop treating me like a slut!” Draco complains, leaning forward to pinch her arm and she hisses at him like an angry kitten, “you know that I haven’t slept with that many people.”

“You still need to tell them,” she smirks.

“I could owl them…” Draco says, imagining Blaise’s reaction if he broke the news to him face to face (sod it, his fellow Slytherin is way too good at stinging hexes; an owl will suffice), “there’s no way I’m meeting up with the Muggle.”

“What about _him_?” Pansy says, her smile reaching Cheshire Cat proportions.

“Oh fuck,” Draco whimpers, “I can’t send _him_ an owl. I have to tell him in person.”

“Sweetheart, you most certainly cannot send an owl to Harry Potter.”

Draco leaves Pansy’s clinic and goes straight to his office in Diagon Alley. He downs the potion she has given him and then sits at his desk, parchment and quill in hand, ready to send those bloody letters. He’s spent the past seven years trying not to be a coward, but he doesn’t feel like facing his ex’s wrath, especially when he knows full well that he’s used protective spells every single time he has shagged. 

He has no idea how he could have possibly contracted the infection.

Unless…

Shit.

Oh fuck!

He remembers the first time he’s ended up in Harry Potter’s bed, a little over a year ago. 

Potter hired him to help him fix his house. He had moved back into Grimmauld Place after breaking up with the Weaslette and had been living there for a couple of years, but the house was a complete and utter mess. It needed deep cleaning, fixing and renovations. Potter had tried, but it was a job for a professional like Draco and, besides, the Gryffindor was still working as an Auror at the time, so he was too busy. 

Draco was contacted by Granger, who asked if he was available and willing to help Potter. Draco asked for twenty-four hours to think about it and then decided that the war was behind them and that in the six years after its end, he had proved that he had changed. 

He had met Potter on several social occasions and they had been civil to each other. Pansy and Granger had somehow become friends, so Draco and Potter had ended up spending more time than expected in each other’s company. And it had been fine. More than fine. Draco fucking enjoyed it, surprisingly enough. They had even gone to the Muggle cinema a few times together and then dinner had followed. So, when the job request arrived, Draco couldn’t see why he shouldn’t accept.

Yes, Harry was really fit and Draco had eyes. Extremely gay eyes. But there was more to it. Potter was no longer a twat. He had grown into a quiet and pleasant man, his sense of humour so attuned to Draco’s. They still had arguments and sometimes drove each other mental, but they had both changed and had surprisingly ended up getting along well with each other. 

So Draco accepted the job and started working on renovating Grimmauld Place on a cold October morning. Harry showed him the rooms, feeling embarrassed by the state of them. Draco had actually seen much worse, but he still teased him and enjoyed making him blush.

Fixing the house had been hard work and it took him months to bring it back to its original splendour and then adapt it to Potter’s needs and taste. He started downstairs and made his way up, room by room. Cleaning, fixing, making space, clearing old artifacts, polishing the wooden floors, choosing new curtains and wallpaper.

Harry decided to take time off work to help, finally using those days he had accumulated over the years and never used to go on holiday, too busy with his job. Sometimes Draco suspected that the Gryffindor was terrified of stopping, of taking a break and just having time to think. His life was a whirlwind of missions, training, paperwork, meeting up with friends and Ministry events. But when Draco started fixing his house, Harry decided to stop, for the first time since the war. And Draco wondered why then, why when _he_ was involved.

When he found the courage to ask, Harry just stared at him first.

“I…” Harry eventually replied, his sleeves rolled up and hair stuck to his sweaty forehead as he was polishing the floor, “I need to keep going, because if I stop, everything will just come crumbling down.”

“Everything?” Draco asked, abandoning the wallpaper to turn and look at Potter.

“My life,” Harry murmured, “it’s all just a mess.”

“What do you mean? You defeated the Dark Lord, saved the Wizarding world and then became an Auror,” Draco listed on his long fingers, “if you are a mess, then what shall the rest of us do? I was in Azkaban for three months!”

Harry shook his head and simply muttered a “never mind, you don’t get it.” 

But Draco _wanted_ to get it. So he spent the following days and weeks studying Harry, marking his every move, observing his shifting moods, relearning his habits. It was like being back at Hogwarts, but this time it felt different. Maybe because he liked Potter this time. Because he wanted him and was finally admitting it to himself, as he learned how Harry liked his tea (with milk and way too much sugar), what his favourite colour was (red, unsurprisingly), what made him falter or jump (old photos, loud noises, green lights and billowing curtains).

And without meaning to, Draco fell in love with him. It was too easy, really, because Harry was just lovely. He was messy and lovely and definitely a bit broken.

Draco started to see the cracks, little by little. He noticed how Harry often forgot to eat. How he stared into space, his bottom lip between his teeth and his brows furrowed, as they made their way through Sirius’s old things. He saw the dark circles under Harry’s eyes, day by day. He had horrible nightmares even when he napped in the afternoon, so Draco wondered how awful the nights were for the Gryffindor. Harry’s hands were always a mess and Draco caught him washing them a million times, until the skin broke and started bleeding and Draco had no idea what to do to make things better.

As Halloween approached, Harry slept too little and sometimes drank too much, opening the door in the morning with a hangover face. When he read the Prophet, Draco finally realised that the anniversary of his parents’ death was approaching and he felt like an idiot for not thinking about it sooner. Draco wondered if he should pause the renovations for a few days, to give Harry time to grieve in peace and quiet, but when he asked him, Harry stared at him with panic in his eyes and just grabbed his robes and shook his head.

“Don’t leave me here on my own, please,” he whispered, “not tonight. Please, stay.”

Draco nodded, without a word, going back home whilst Harry napped to take a change of clothes and to shop for food to make dinner (Harry’s kitchen was always empty). They had a quiet evening together, chatting about Quidditch and their jobs as Draco was busy cooking. And it all felt so mundane and domestic, that Draco felt something shattering inside his chest, wishing that he could have this every single fucking day. Wanting to come back home to find Harry asleep on the sofa, warm and soft, to be able to brush his messy curls from his forehead and wake him up with a gentle kiss. He wanted to cook for him, to make sure that he ate a decent meal every evening. He even wanted to make him a fucking packed lunch to take to the Ministry every morning.

“I have some Firewhisky,” Harry said after dinner, as they sat on his sofa and stared at the fireplace, “do you fancy a drink?”

It was probably the worst idea, but Draco found that he could never say no to the Gryffindor these days. And, besides, he always seemed to be attracted like a magnet to bad ideas.

So they ended up drinking together, moving closer on the sofa, until Harry was in Draco’s lap, kissing him with such abandon that Draco found himself moaning into his mouth. He let his fingers slide under Harry’s t-shirt, stroking his warm skin, feeling the scars under his fingertips and wishing he could kiss all of his wounds better. Harry’s lips were soft against his, his tongue exploring Draco’s mouth as the movement of his hips sent shivers down his spine.

“I want you,” the Gryffindor murmured, “please.”

Draco just nodded and Harry apparated them both to his bedroom, landing on the unmade bed. 

“How do you want me?” Draco asked, helping Harry out of his clothes, fingers fumbling with his trousers, suddenly clumsy in his eagerness.

“Any way you want,” Harry replied, “you can fuck me.”

Draco couldn’t suppress a groan and he kissed and bit and sucked on Harry’s skin, until he was a whimpering mess and Draco’s fingers were stretching him, making him wet and ready for him.

“Please,” Harry whispered, his eyes closed as he was lying on his back on the bed, Draco’s mouth around his cock, “please, Draco.”

So Draco took him, slowly and deeply, making sure that Harry was fine, that he was not falling to pieces as their bodies rocked against each other. He felt his heart beating madly in his chest when Harry started moaning, his fingers digging into Draco’s flesh and green eyes finally locked with his, as Draco sank into his delicious heat. They both came with a gasp, Harry first, with tears falling down the corner of his eyes, soon followed by Draco.

“I don’t want to be an Auror anymore,” Harry whispered much later, his head resting on Draco’s chest, “I can’t do this anymore. Draco…I just can’t…”

“You don’t have to,” Draco simply answered, sliding his fingers through Harry’s dark curls and laying a kiss on his forehead.

Draco was so overwhelmed by it all that he only realised the following day that he had forgotten to cast the usual protective spells. But then Harry felt warm and safe, curled up in his arms, breathing softly against his skin. And Draco had decided to just enjoy the feeling, closing his eyes and wishing that it would never end.

The renovations took longer than expected. They ended up fucking in every single room, getting to know each other’s bodies until they were well-practised at giving each other pleasure. 

And Draco felt truly fucked. Because this was no longer a crush on Potter. He was in love with Harry.

He still didn’t say anything, not wanting to spoil the fragile bond that existed between them, dreading the end of the renovation. The day he finished and the house looked brand new and finally felt like a home, Harry asked him to spend the night with him. And then again, the following day. So, Draco kept on returning, without asking too many questions. 

It’s been a year since that day and Draco looks outside of his office window, at the clear blue sky. He takes a deep breath and decides to call it a day. He’ll send those owls tomorrow.

He swings by the supermarket to get some cat food for Morgana, since he’s noticed Harry’s running out. He gets some fruit and drops by the Gryffindor’s favourite Indian restaurant on the way to Grimmauld Place.

“That smells lovely, what did you get?” Harry asks as soon as Draco gets in, kissing him with a smile still lingering on his lips.

“The usual,” Draco replies, “your favourite.”

“To what do I owe this fancy treatment?” Harry asks, grabbing the shopping bags from Draco’s fingers and walking with him to the kitchen. He’s already (still?) wearing his pyjamas and his hair looks like the loveliest disaster and makes Draco’s heart clench in his chest.

“I just fancied curry. How was your day?” Draco asks, putting away the groceries as Harry boils some water.

“It was fine. I had lunch with Ron and then met up with Andromeda to work on that charity ball for next month, the one for war orphans.”

Draco waits for them to sit down with a cup of tea in front of them before he finds the courage to speak.

He's worried about Harry's reaction, because he knows how jealous he gets every time Draco mentions his past lovers. And Draco hasn't been with that many men, in spite of what Pansy thinks, but for Harry every single one of them is a threat, somehow. Draco knows there's nothing he should be afraid of, because his heart only belongs to Harry Potter. 

“I…” he says, then scratches his nose. He stares at Harry’s hands and they look fine, no more red patches and cuts. They’ve been alright for the past few months and Draco feels relieved, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

“That sounds ominous,” Harry says with a grimace and an anxious glint in his eyes, “do you have to go abroad again? How long is it this time?”

“No, I’m not accepting any jobs abroad anymore,” Draco replies, “it’s about my medical check-up with Pansy.”

Harry’s eyes open wide and his hand finds Draco’s straight away.

“I have chlamydia,” Draco says, nearly breathless, getting a vial out of his pocket and handing it to Harry, “so you need to take this potion, because I might have passed it on to you.”

Harry breathes in relief and his shoulders sag.

“God, Draco, you really had me worried for a minute. I thought it was something serious.”

“This is serious!” Draco complains, standing up and pacing around the kitchen, as Harry opens the potion and empties the content into his mouth with a disgusted look on his face, “I have no idea how I got it!”

“You know I’ve only ever had sex with you and Ginny,” Harry replies, their eyes locking, “and she gets checked every six months, so she would have told me.”

“But I’ve always used spells with my ex-lovers,” Draco explains and he sees that light in Harry’s eyes. He’s grown used to it. It sends a thrill through him every single time. That possessive and raw look that makes Harry’s eyes flash, vibrant green, claiming him as his.

Harry stands up and walks closer, his eyes never leaving Draco’s.

“Has there been anyone else in the past year?” Harry asks, his voice so low it’s nearly a whisper and Draco shakes his head, appalled at the thought.

“No! Only you,” Draco replies, shaking his head.

“Good,” Harry says, his fingers tracing Draco’s collarbone, roaming down his chest and brushing against his nipple through the thin fabric of Draco’s robes, “you know I don’t like sharing.”

Draco can’t help but snort at that comment.

“Harry, you’re the most generous person I know,” he says, his eyes growing fond, “you spend your days raising money for a hundred different charities. You used your savings to fund your friends’ business and you gave all of your best brooms to Teddy and the Weasley kids.”

Harry starts unbuttoning Draco’s robes, his gaze never leaving him.

“That’s different,” he says.

“How so?” Draco asks, a smile on his lips.

“I’m okay sharing my things. But there’s no way I’m sharing my boyfriend with anyone.”

It hits Draco like a train.

Boyfriend.

His eyes widen and he parts his lips as he stares at Harry.

He never thought Harry considered him as his boyfriend. He thought he was a phase. Someone to keep Harry company before he found a decent person who was more suitable for the Saviour of the Wizarding World.

“Draco? You okay? You’ve gone all quiet,” Harry says, looking at him apprehensively.

Draco can’t find the words to answer; they’re all stuck in his throat with his heart.

“Can you smell burnt toast?” Harry asks and Draco finally snaps out of it.

“What? No, why? Have you let Kreacher use the toaster again? I told you it was a terrible idea.”

“Thank god, he speaks!” Harry says, gabbing his robes and dragging him closer, “I thought you were having a stroke. Merlin, you scared me to death.”

Draco’s about to reply with one of his sassy comments, but his brain stops functioning when Harry suddenly drops to his knees and starts working on his trousers, opening them with practised ease and then swallowing him whole before Draco can even formulate a thought.

“Fuck, _oooh_ , Harry…” Draco tilts his head back, his dick hardening at an impossible speed in Harry’s mouth. He feels Harry’s lips suckling on the head and then his tongue swirling around it, lapping at the precome that is already gathering at the tip and then taking him all into his hot mouth again. Draco feels Harry’s moan vibrating against his skin and he groans, his fingers sliding into soft dark curls, bringing Harry closer. “Fuck, you’re so good at this.”

“You taught me well,” Harry replies, letting go of his cock to go lower and suck on his balls instead, making Draco whimper. He remembers Harry’s first clumsy blowjob, the way his eyes wouldn’t leave him, how insecure the Gryffindor felt and how mind-blowing it was for Draco to have Harry on his knees for him.

“I want you to fuck me,” he says, when Harry starts bobbing his head up and down his length again, faster. Draco doesn’t want to come so soon, but he’s already feeling overwhelmed. “Harry, I want you inside me.”

He sees the room spinning around them and finds himself on Harry’s bed, pinned down under the Gryffindor’s hands and mouth, their clothes and Harry's glasses suddenly gone. He loves it when Harry’s magic goes a bit bonkers and he does things without meaning to.

“Come on, you know you want to fuck me,” he says when Harry won’t stop blowing him, but then he feels a slick finger against his entrance and he lets out a soft moan. There are spells, of course, but Harry never wants to use them. He likes using his fingers and his mouth, spreading Draco open little by little, eating him until he’s a wet sobbing mess, begging for Harry’s cock.

“Harry…” he moans when the third finger slides inside him, “you’re going to make me come.”

“I thought that was the ultimate goal,” the Gryffindor jokes, finally moving and aligning his slick cock with Draco’s entrance. He takes Draco’s legs and props his ankles on his shoulders and Draco feels a shiver running down his spine.

He lets out a low needy sound when Harry finally breaches him, feeling his hard cock sliding in and out, slowly, too slowly. Harry’s a bloody tease and Draco’s just mad about him.

“Harder,” he whimpers, “please. I’m already so close.”

“Christ, you’re so beautiful.”

Draco feels a wave of emotions crashing over him, remembering the way Harry said he didn’t want to share him. The fact that he called him his boyfriend. And he feels his eyes burning, tears threatening to fall.

“I love you,” Draco whispers, for the first time, “I love you so much, Harry.”

Green eyes open wide as all movement stops for a few seconds.

“Draco…”

They just stare at each other and then Harry groans.

And for once Harry just gives in and fucks him for good, his gaze never leaving Draco’s, making him pant and swear and moan as he comes untouched, painting his pale belly with long spurts of sticky come. Harry lets out a groan and then fucks him deep, coming inside him with Draco’s name on his lips.

He collapses on top of Draco, kissing his cheek and his jaw and then his lips, his tongue sliding in and making Draco whimper.

“I love you too,” Harry whispers against his lips.

“You do?” Draco says, surprised.

“Of course, I do,” Harry frowns, looking at him, “Draco, we’ve been together for a year. We practically live together. You’re here every night and we spend every weekend together. Merlin, we have a cat!”

“I thought Morgana was yours,” Draco mumbles, still in shock.

“You brought her home,” Harry argues, “so she’s yours too.”

“Oh…” Draco mumbles, his fingers drawing patterns on Harry’s skin, trying to catch his breath and to get his head to stop spinning.

"My wardrobe is full of your clothes," Harry adds, fingers gently playing with Draco's hair, "and I can't remember the last time you went back to the Manor to spend the night there."

Draco can't either. And it all starts making sense, like pieces of a puzzle finally slotting in the right place.

Draco’s heart feels like it’s about to melt and he can’t stop smiling like an idiot.

There’s a loud tap coming from the window and Harry leaves their bed to open it. It’s a brown owl with a letter fastened to its leg. It’s bright pink and Draco recognises it straight away.

“Pansy,” he says, reaching out. Harry unfastens the message and gives it to him.

_Darling,_

_It appears I’ve accidentally mixed up your test results with another patient's._

_You don’t have chlamydia. Yay!_

_Love,_

_Pansy_

“I’m going to fucking kill her,” he hisses, while Harry laughs and sinks back into his arms, his hand circling Draco's waist as he casts a cleaning charm on them.

“It’s okay, the sex was pretty spectacular,” Harry says, kissing him.

“I suppose she kind of helped,” Draco says, thinking about his heart, so full and brimming with happiness, threatening to explode.

“You finally told me that you love me,” Harry says dreamily, “I thought you’d never say it.”

“I’ve been in love with you for ages,” Draco replies, sheepishly, “I was just terrified of telling you. I’ve never told anyone before.”

“Same,” Harry admits, “and I thought you would freak out.”

“I suppose Pansy’s mistake had some kind of fortunate consequences,” Draco admits with a sigh, “I might not send her a Howler.”

“Maybe we should send her a fruit basket,” Harry suggests, with a smile against Draco’s skin, “full of bananas.”

Draco chuckles and holds him closer. He’s never going to let him go. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments make my day.  
> 


End file.
